Kat Martin - Heart of Fire

She must have heard hoofbeats behind her, for she whirled toward the sound and her foot caught on an unseen obstacle in the grass. She went down with an unladylike yelp, falling backward over a big granite boulder. Her skirts went into the air and her frothy white petticoats flew up to her chin.

Gray found himself grinning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. He sobered, pulled Raja to a halt on the path, and swung down from the saddle.

“Here—let me help you.”

She slapped away the hand he offered, shoved down her skirts and propped herself up on her elbows, her knees still draped over the rock. “I don’t need your help. You are the reason I am in this humiliating position in the first place.”

“How is it I am at fault because you tripped?” He reached down and caught her wrist, hauling her somewhat awkwardly to her feet.

She didn’t bother to answer, just cast him a look that said it was true. The ribbons on her bonnet had come undone and her hat tumbled into the grass. Her glorious copper hair came loose on one side and hung down in a riot of curls against her shoulder. Gray fought an urge to tangle his fingers in the heavy mass and haul her mouth up to his for a kiss.

It was insane. He barely knew the woman, and he definitely didn’t trust her. Perhaps Samir was right about denying himself for too long. He made a mental note to pay a visit to Bethany Chambers, wife of the aged Earl of Devane, whose country home, Parkside, was just beyond the next village. Gray had heard the countess had returned for the summer. Though he hadn’t seen her in several months, she was a woman of strong appetites, and he knew she would welcome him into her bed.

Letty began to brush off her dress, drawing his attention to the bosom straining against her bodice. He tried not to wonder if her breasts were as full and tantalizing as they appeared, or how they might feel in his hands. Letty made no comment, just turned to begin her journey back along the path, then winced as her ankle crumpled beneath her. Gray caught her before she could fall.

She looked up at him with those jewel-green eyes. “I—I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Sit down on the rock and let me take a look.”

Letty sat carefully and Gray knelt in front of her. He picked up her foot, slid off her low-heeled leather boot and began to gently examine her ankle.

“What…what are you doing?”

“I was in the army. I want to make sure nothing’s broken.” Her stockings had holes, he noticed, though they had been carefully mended. At least part of her story appeared to be true. She was certainly in need of money.

“It is only twisted,” she said, trying to pull the sprained limb free of his grasp. “I’m sure it is fine.”

Gray didn’t let go. “Hold still, will you? You’re only making this harder.” It wasn’t the only thing getting hard. As he ran his hand over the fine bones in her feet, his groin tightened. Gray set his jaw against the unwanted arousal and continued to test each tiny bone, feeling for possible injury, trying not to think what it might be like to slide his hand upward, over the smooth silk stocking that covered a very shapely calf, all the way to the slit in her drawers, then inside to touch—

He clamped his jaw against a shot of lust and the painful throbbing of his erection. Silently he cursed. He needed a woman and badly, and though this one fired his blood, he could not have her. Not yet.

He felt her trembling and realized he still cradled her small foot in his hands.

Gray cleared his throat. “I don’t think there are any broken bones.”

“I told you, I am fine.”

He slid her boot back on and tied the laces, carefully helped her up from the rock. She took a step and nearly fell. “Oh, dear.”

“You need to keep your weight off that ankle. You’ll have to ride home with me.”

He didn’t give her time to argue, just scooped her up in his arms and settled her in the saddle, one leg on each side of the horse, her full skirts bunching around her knees. Raja danced and sidestepped as Gray swung up behind her, but Letty didn’t seem to be afraid. At least not of the horse.

“What a beautiful animal,” she said, trying to keep her balance without touching him.

Gray almost smiled. It wasn’t going to happen, and since he had no choice but to see her safely home, he might as well enjoy himself. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nudged the stallion forward. Letty tried to scoot away, and nearly unseated them both.

“I would advise you to sit still, Mrs. Moss, before we both wind up on the ground.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were returning to the castle.”

“Lucky for you, I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.”

She turned, tilted her head to look up at him. “You weren’t following me, were you?”

“Now, why would I do that?”

Letty made no reply, but her wariness did not lessen. They rode silently along the trail until the horse started up a rise and Letty began to slide backward in the saddle. She grabbed a handful of the stallion’s thick mane to hold herself in place, but it did no good, her bottom coming to a snug rest between his thighs. Even through the fabric of her skirt and petticoats, he could feel the heat of her, the roundness of her flesh, and he went hard just thinking of the soft, womanly curves beneath her gown.

“I hope I’m not making you too uncomfortable,” she said.

Uncomfortable? Good God, he ached with every heartbeat. “I’m afraid that is an understatement.”

She started to move, squirming to put some distance between them, making him harden even more. Gray stifled a groan. “Hold still, dammit. Just stay where you are.”

Letty’s head came up. “You don’t have to swear. If you will recall, this is your fault in the first place.”

She had accused him of that, he remembered with a hint of amusement. “Sorry, I forgot.”

They didn’t talk again until the castle came into view. Gray rode directly up to the front, where a groom stood, waiting to take the reins. Gray swung from the saddle, then reached up to lift Letty down, finding her waist was so small his hands wrapped completely around it.

“Thank you,” she said softly. He noticed she was breathing a little too fast, and figured he must be right about her. Her experience with men was obviously limited. Cyrus was a much older man. Perhaps his desire for a woman had declined with his years.

As Samir suggested, perhaps Letty’s needs would surface, and if that happened, Gray would be delighted to oblige. At least he would be once he had assured himself she was no threat to him or his family.

He looked down at the top of her head, at the fiery curls resting against her small shoulders, and fisted his hands to keep from reaching out to touch them. She might not be a woman of great intellectual capacity, but she set fire to his blood, and should she wind up in his bed, he wouldn’t waste time talking.

She looked up at him as he lifted her against his chest to carry her up the front steps, and another surge of lust hit him like a fist.

Holy God. Samir was right. It was past time he took a woman. He would send a note to Bethany Chambers. Gray just hoped he would receive her reply very soon.

In her quilted satin robe, Coralee sat in the middle of the massive four-poster bed, her legs tucked up beneath her. She had babied her ankle for the past few days, and the limb seemed to have fully recovered. Perhaps she owed some thanks to Gray Forsythe, but she didn’t want to think of him now.

Instead, she fixed her attention to the bundles of pale pink letters, bound with pink satin ribbon and carrying traces of Laurel’s favorite perfume, that rested on the faded counterpane. Corrie had brought the letters with her from London, all that remained of the sister she had loved.